The Truth Behind the LABB Murders
by InsaneByChoice
Summary: I know my time is almost up. This is a fact. A fact I must live, or rather die, with. I decided to tell the true stories of the L.A.B.B. Murder cases.I hope you realize, L, that I hate you. And now, with Kira out there, I'm not the only one. B's story.
1. Preface: The End of the Beginning

Mmkay, I know I should be working on the other one I have but I have such a writer's block on it, it's not even funny. So I decided to try out a Death Note one. It's about Beyond Birthday. My ULTIMATELY FAVORITE CHARACTER!! x3

Ahem...anyway...Hope you like it!! ^-^

Disclaimer: Trust me, If I owned B, I'd have him locked in my closet right now. That goes for everyone in Death Note really...Wow...I need a bigger closet now...

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Stone walls and iron bars hold me away from the world. No, that isn't quite true, these walls and bars _are _my world. My sanctuary from the shame, my haven from the humiliation of failure. Or...so it was. Now I see it for what it truly is, a prison. My Prison. All because that Wammy's House brat, Mello, told my story or what he believed was my story. Mello, the temper-mental child of Wammy's House that left at 15 to become a gangster in America. Ha. Pathetic. He had more then likely achieved this stroke of brilliance from me. Another temper-mental child of that damned orphanage of detective prodigies. A child who is no longer a child but a 'murderous' and 'dangerous' man. A man deemed evil.

Truthfully, I'm not a bad man. In fact, I'd consider myself very well off. I have, or had technically, dashing good looks, was intellectually elite, and had the charm of an Indian snake charmer. I could twist and warp minds around an idea I thought was good, and it usually worked out in favor of all those involved. I suppose you could say I was manipulative, I would not disagree, but all around I was a good boy. That is, until, already an orphan, I excelled past what normal children should be thinking at the young age I was.

After that, because of my superior intellect, I went to Wammy's House and was deemed B. Backup. The third hand of the great, mysterious L. I had never truly known my parents, them dying soon after my birth, so I never truly knew my name. Most families I had been with named me themselves, but this letter, this B, gave me my name. Beyond Birthday.

It wasn't only the letter that gave me this seeming ridiculous name, it was also the fact that my eyes were not like other little boys' and girls' eyes. Nor were they like any adults' eyes. My eyes were, and still are, special. I can see death. Not to be mistaken by a hooded, supernatural skeleton that comes from beyond the grave to take the souls of the dead, but the invisible numbers above every ones head. Their lifespan, if you will.

I know my time is almost gone; my numbers, invisible to even me, running it's agonizingly slow way to zero. I've known this for awhile now. All because of L. L, the greatest detective of all time. L, the reason I, Mello, and many other children have gone to Wammy's House. The reason Wammy's House was even created. The reason for the pain and grief of all the children residing in said orphanage. The reason I killed three people.

I suppose it is partially my fault. My selfishness, my greed, my lust for the power to make L grovel, even if just hypothetically. All this in vain. I lost to him. Humiliating, no? Either way, I know my time is almost gone. This is a fact. A fact I must live, or rather die, with. With this thought in mind I decided to tell the true stories of the L.A.B.B. Murder cases. What I felt during these. Maybe, with my final dying words, the mass of people reading these, will understand.

L, I hope you understand the torture you force my into. I hope you realize, L, that I hate you. And now, with Kira out there, I'm not the only one who does.


	2. Chapter 1: Ready or Not L, Here I Come

Bwhahaa!! First chapter!! Sorta... Anyway this should be great!! x3

Disclaimer: If I owned this would I seriously be sitting at my computer writing this and putting it here instead of sitting in a hot tub on the beach?

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I believe the best place to start would be, naturally the beginning even though, technically, I've already started from the end. Either way, the beginning. The death of the only other person in Wammy's House besides myself from the very beginning. A. Alternative. The second L. Although I never knew his real name, I knew him very well. We were close, even through the rivalry of being L. A was, of course, smarter then I was, but that soon faded. His mind began to deteriorate within the confines of the orphanage we called 'home'.

A, though intelligent, was rather...emotional, to say the least. The smallest things seemed to upset him. I never understood why and I have yet to figure it out to this very day. Nevertheless, this was simply the way he was. Roger, the 'headmaster' of the House decided to give the other boy a taste of L's ability. I watched from the door. I saw the numbers above his head lessening. I knew what he was going to do even before he did. He was going to kill himself. I saw his knees begin to shake, I watched his sweat fall from his brow, his calm composer had broken. I don't believe Roger had seen this happen to him or predicted what would happen, the fourteen year old boy was too smart for such a stunt. Even twelve year old me knew that this assumption was wrong.

One week later the funeral was held.

By this time other children had been excepted into Wammy's but none had gone out on that stormy day to the funeral of their comrade, their classmate. Only me. It is possible, I admit, this is where all my homicidal tendencies began to progress in alarming degrees. Seeing A's cold, lifeless eyes staring up at me gave me a sadness I could not comprehend. A was my best friend and, though the age was very young, my boyfriend. My lover, really.

As the rain pounded on the windows of the church I swore that I would make L pay for what he did to A. What he did to me. What he was destined to do to all the others in the House, though I never cared much for the others. The lightening flashed and thunder rolled but I never moved from the open casket of A. Not until he was properly buried six feet under the ground.

Even after he was buried, I stood, silent in the pounding rain, waiting for the rain to stop. For my tears to stop. I wanted nothing more then to feel nothing. To die. To make him, L, die. I wished for nothing more. I was so consumed in my thoughts I had not heard the squishing of footsteps behind me. It wasn't until I felt the latex glove of another person did I realize I was not alone.

My heart stopped and I jumped slightly when the hand landed on my shoulder. I turned my head to look who was there. It was a boy, maybe a year or so older then myself. He was not dressed for the horrid weather in his, now soaked to the bone, baggy white long-sleeved shirt and equally as baggy pants. His hunched form and sleep deprived eyes, hidden slightly by the messy, wet mop of black hair, made me skittish of the boy. He looked at me, his dark eyes boring into mine, before he looked over at the fresh grave.

"Was he your friend?" The other boy's voice was shaking slightly, almost unnoticeably. He looked down at me and I looked above his head. L Lawliet. My eyes widened and my mouth fell. This...creature, for lack of a better word, couldn't be...could he?

All I could do in my shocked state was nod slightly and look back at A. "I'm sorry." His hand dropped and he looked up as I looked back. "Do you hear them?" I looked around and listened carefully. I heard nothing. He looked back to me and my confused face and hunched over more so that we were nose to nose.

"The bells. They are ringing for A." With that he left me, his haunting words still ring in my head like the silent bells he was speaking of. That was the first time I had ever met the great L. But I assured myself it would not be the last. Though he may have not meant to, just being there, being at that funeral, was taunting me, mocking me. I, for lack of a more reasonable word, loved A. I was not about to let him die without a fight. This is when I decided I would beat L at his own game. I would make a case he could not solve. I would become the World's Greatest Killer, the only thing in the way of the World's Greatest Detective. L is after B, afterall.

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It hadn't taken long to figure out what I was going to do. I'm not sure the exact moment I finished thinking things through. It took at the most a week. I knew exactly what I had to do. I had to _become_ the person I hated, the man I loathed. I had to become L. And so I did just that. I became L, right down to his looks.

I had natural ebony hair and dark pools for eyes, but my hair was rather long at the time. I took scissors to it that night. My long locks covered the floor. I looked at myself in the mirror and smiled. So far so good. I grabbed my clothes, all but the ones identical to L's, and burned them in the fireplace downstairs. As the flames grew and cackled I smiled and began to laugh with the sound of the fire. The very substance that I had planned to be my demise.

The next day, I walked downstairs and the whispers and stares began. Before this I had been rather protective of my hair and clothes. I was a Narcissus, I do admit. They had all kept themselves, horrified of saying anything that would make me snap. I also had quite the temper. But all day all I did was smile to myself. I couldn't be angry at something I did to myself, they simply didn't know what I was planning. Fools.

Over the next few years, I had become more or less obsessive with my L-like behavior. I had hacked into the Wammy's data base, a rather difficult thing to do really, and studied everything about L. By the end of this intensive study I was his exact copy. From the way he looked, to the way he sat, to the way he ate, to the way he thought, even down to the way he talked. I suppose it was unhealthy to make this change, but it was necessary for my revenge. I was 16 when I left Wammy's to fulfill what I had planned.

Like Mello had mentioned in his 'notes' I choose L.A. for it's name. This was no lie. I knew those remedial police officers would name the case the L.A.B.B. Murders. It would only make sense really. The thought of the case file makes me smile, even to this day, even though I failed. L is After Beyond Birthday. Catchy, no?

I had coveted what money I could lay my hands on and caught the plain to Los Angeles, California in America. My first steps inside that American airport I began reconsidering this. I was but a child, as intellectually elite as I was this was still a fact. I had money left over and was about to pay for a ticket back to England when the image of A slicing seven deep L's into his wrists washed over my mind. I clutched my hand around the money and turned on my heel, leaving the airport in a huff, hunched over and bare-footed.

I had bought an apartment under a false name and paid for everything I had in cash. In the beginning I didn't have much. I lived in a rat infested Hell hole and slept on the mattress of a futon. Though this mattered not to me. I had a purpose, and I would make this work until I did so. I had gotten a small job to make end's meet and I got by living on my precious strawberry jam, an affect of imitating the great L.

Weeks had passed since I arrived and I had found my victims. Believe Bridesmaid. Quarter Queen. Backyard Bottomslash. Nothing similar except their names and death days. I wasn't about to kill someone on a day they couldn't die, it's impossible. No matter how hard I would try. That didn't matter much. All I had to do was wait. Waiting I could do.

Ready or not L, here I come.

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Read and reveiw pleeeease! x3


	3. Chapter 2: Catch Me If You Can

I never cared much for other people. What's the point? I can see their death date. I know when they are going to die. If I get attached and they die and it will hurt. Number one rule of self-preservation: make no room for weakness. Caring about someone else is a weakness. Being the intelligent man I am, I decided with those facts not to get attached. A was the only exception for me to that rule and look what happened.

Either way, since I cared not for these people, nor people in general, it didn't bother me as much to kill them as someone with 'a heart'. With 'morals'. Ha! As if such things truly exist. It's nothing more then the human nature of fitting into society. As may Kira supporters, conceited asses they are, they are normal people like you and me and hide by saying what he does is wrong when in truth they write things like 'Kill them all, Kira'. Well, maybe not normal like _me_, but you get the point nevertheless. I'm straying from the subject again...

Within the months that I had to wait I perfected my tactics (as if I truly needed to, they were practically perfect the way they were) until finally July 22 came about. Earlier in the month, I had saved enough money to buy a reasonably good laptop and had gotten the first clue sealed within it's memory. A crossword puzzle. A crossword puzzle I knew the police would never be able to conceive. Only L would be able to.

I had anticipated L's entrance at the beginning. I was anxious, I admit, but I had no true idea when he would enter the case. I had hoped he would come in on the first murder, that would have been much more interesting then after the third murder, but as long as he came in before my suicide I wouldn't mind. I would do my best to make sure he was welcomed with blood-stained hands shaking his sugar-coated ones. Hahaa.

I had saved more money and bought ten Wara Ningyo, a Japanese straw doll or ten Japanese straw dolls to be exact. I had set them in a hidden drawer in my 'home' and waited the until I could perform the first murder. The murder of Believe Bridesmaid. The murder that would turn L's world upside down, or so I had hoped. The murder that laid on the 31st of July. The first murder of the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases.

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I had made a copy of his key as soon as I possibly could and when the day came, I put it in a bag with four of the Wara Ningyo, a rope, string, a bottle of very strong sleeping pills, a book called _Insufficient Relaxation _and, unfortunately but necessary, volumes 1-3, 5-8, and 10-13 of _my _copies of _Akazukin Chacha_. I had to remind myself time and time again it was to make L pay, yet I still had a horrid time placing my precious manga in the bag, never to see again. I suppose that would be the only thing I would truly miss when I leave this place, this world, pathetic to admit but still true. My poor _Akazukin Chacha._

I need to stop straying away from the point, I may not live to finish this if I do so. Now, where was I? Oh yes...

I admit I had my doubts that the key would work, I had made the copy myself. I'm not the best blacksmith though I have dabbled in the profession. I let out the shallow breath I had been holding while turning the key when the door lock clicked and I had succeeded in entering the house. The easiest part of the entire operation was over. I was in Believe Bridesmaid's home.

I locked the door behind me and walked to the bedroom I knew he was in. I laid the bag outside the room no not get any blood on it. Wiping blood off plastic is tedious. I took out the long rope and a bottle of strong sleeping pills, turning the doorknob so I could enter the room. When I entered he was sound asleep. I felt the need to wake him up for this, it was only polite. I walked calmly, quietly over to the sleeping 44 year old man and shook him gently after placing the pills in my pocket, not wanting to alarm him. He jumped up, very much alarmed anyway.

Stupid man.

He sat up and began speaking loudly at me. I suppose it could be considered yelling but it truly depends on your definition of yelling. Either way, that was what he was doing. Shouting profanities at me and telling me to 'leave before [he] call[ed] the cops'. I ignored him to the best of my ability and brought the rope level with my neck. He stopped mid-sentence. He began to back away slowly to the edge of the bed.

I remember the exact words he said to me. The first plea I had ever heard. Well, not the first but the first to stay with me my entire life. The words he spoke, they haunt me. His face, the face that uttered these words, haunts me. I believe both will till the end of my life. Both face and plea will run through my mind as I die. I know it will. It will be my last thought. I simply know this to be true, though I have yet to die.

"P-please...think this through son...what have I done to you?" I had thought this through and nothing, he was nothing more then a pawn in my plan, I thought as I placed my knee on the bed still going toward him. He kept backing away as I advanced him. "P-p-please...if it's money you want I have plenty, take as much as you want! Just don't kill me!" I had no interest in money, I still do not, all I care about was surpassing L, I thought as he spoke once more. "Please, sonny, I can't die..." Tears started to well up in his eyes. This caught me by surprise. I had never seen someone cry. "Please...I don't want to die...please...I'm begging you...please...." his voice grew softer, weaker. He knew he would lose. He knew I would kill him no matter what.

The tears started to fall. He looked quite pathetic, and then he said something that will haunt me for the rest of my life. "Please...why would you do something like this to me? To someone you don't even know? Please...please let me live...I'll do anything...just let me live." I stopped my advance. These words stung. I don't know why they did, but they went through my mind like an arrow can go through an apple. I didn't know what to do.

His numbers where running low though, if I didn't kill him something else would, and then all this, all my planning, all the trouble I went through, it would all be in vain. I would not surpass L. I would have failed. Not only to L but to A too. I would have failed. Epically. All because this man was pathetic.

I gritted my teeth together and jumped on him. I straddled him carefully and placed the rope to his neck. I wanted to wrap it around his throat and tighten it to where he died instantly. But that would ruin my plan. I shoved six pills into his mouth and forced him to swallow them. His eyes immediately began to droop. With his last conscious breath he said the most insulting thing anyone could ever say to me. "You'll be caught, if not by the police then by L, the greatest detective ever. I hope you rot in jail." He got his wish.

This statement though...this statement set me off. This statement is what drove me over the edge. This statement is what made me fall of the tightrope I was walking in between sane and insane. This statement is what made me go insane. I turned him onto his stomach before tightening the rope. I could have sworn I felt my eyes glow an unnatural red, though I know this to be impossible, I felt it.

I do believe Bridesmaid, though very much unconscious, could feel my anger as I tightened the rope around his neck much, much tighter. He began convulsing under me, spiting up discuting things that he had more then likely eaten earlier that day. My nose wrinkled at the sight and I shied away from the man's mouth and liquids as much as possible. His head lolled to the side, saliva dripping out in large quantities, and that was when I knew he was officially dead. The hardest part was done.

I had killed Believe Bridesmaid.

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I sat on top of Believe Bridesmaid for a long time, 30 to 40 minutes I would assume, just staring at his back. Contemplating what I had done. I thought about how I felt. Nothing. That's what I felt. Nothing. It was strange. I had read murder books in the point of view of the murderer and the case was always the same. They felt remorse for the first murder. I did not.

I wanted to touch the wound on his neck, but restrained myself. If I had to rub off my fingerprints on his neck the wound wouldn't be as presentable. I had finally gotten off him and picked him up, laying him face up on the bed. I left the room, knowing that Bridesmaid would, obviously, not leave his position. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and walked back in. This is where the hints would begin.

I took the knife and began my work. I sliced through Bridesmaid's skin, having simply unbuttoned his shirt, and leaving long lines in the shape of letters. No, not letters, Roman numerals. As the murders go on they, they being that whore Naomi Misora and L, would figure out these slashes would prove to be the numbers 16, 59, 1423, 159, 13, 7, 582, 724, 1001, 40, 51, and 31. I smiled at my work then frowned. I had to wash all this. Shrugging, I threw the knife on the bed and striped Bridesmaid of everything.

He was, indeed, a tiny man.

I made my way around the small house until I found the laundry room. I threw the clothes into the washer and walked back into the bedroom. I hadn't expected this to be so much work. I sighed and carefully dragged the man of the bed then stripped the covers. I carried them to the washer and poured a fair amount of detergent in it. Blood is hard to get out, I was prepared to scrub the clothes and sheets. I made may way back into the room, having grabbed a wash cloth, a water filled bucket, and soap. I sat next to Bridesmaid's dead body, rolled up my sleeves, and began to gently caress the blood off.

After I was satisfied with the now clean body, I wiped invisible sweat off my brow. I wasn't done just yet. I soaked the washcloth and began to scrub everything in sight. I wiped everything clean of fingerprints. Everything. I took out the light bulbs and even wiped the light sockets, that was the hint to my desperation.

I went room to room cleaning everything, having already cleaned myself off. After I was sure I was done, I went back to the laundry room and got the clothes out. I was happy to see no stains were left, all the clothes and sheets were dark enough to hide any residue. I waked back into the room and, with pruny hands, made the bed, redressed Believe Bridesmaid, and placed him back on the bed facing upward.

Believe it or not, I was still not done.

I took out all the books in the shelve of books, second from the bottom. I put my precious _Akazukin Chacha _in the right side. I would have cried for the series if I was not as dignified as I am. After I was finished I placed the rest of the books back in their original place but added _Insufficient Relaxation _and taking some books away. The bookcase was jam packed.

Jam...I could use some right now...I haven't had any since the L.A.B.B. Murders...

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9:30 pm.

I looked at the red lights that read such numbers on the alarm clock next to Bridesmaid's bed. I was laying on the floor, completely exhausted. I had cleaned the entire house five times and made sure everything was perfect. I had made sure the Wara Ningyo were in place perfectly, the string attached and on the latch and everything. This was much more work then I had originally expected. But I couldn't turn back now. I had already gone through so much. I would not let A lose. I would not let L win. I would surpass L. I swore to it.

I stood up slowly, muscles acing, at midnight. I walked out of the house exhausted but quite proud of myself. I had started up the events that would lead to my victory. Or...so I had hoped. But I didn't know I would fail so I went home, very proud, and ready for some well deserved rest. Tomorrow I would have to convince this man's parents to work on his case. That would be another task on it's own. But as I had said earlier, I had charm and manipulation. I could handle two naive, distraught parents. It was all too easy. I simply couldn't wait for L to bardge in and make it interesting. Let us play this game together, L. You know you want to.

Catch me if you can, L.


	4. Chapter 3: The Mini Naomi Misora

Ok, first of all, I am sooooo sorry this one took so long, but I swear it's not my fault. IT'S FREAKIN' QUARTER QUEEN'S!

I seriously hate this character, so I based her off a person I seriously hate. =3 xD

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Quarter Queen. I do believe that, although killing her this girl was the perfect way to baffle the police, it was the worst murder I had partook in. This deduction was not from the obscure lie that it gave me away as the murderer or because the way I killed her was inadequate or uninteresting. No, these were not the reasons. In truth, I'm not entirely sure _why_ I hate this murder. It's possible I feel guilty for killing her.

Doubtful but possible.

Maybe I simply didn't like the child. She _was_rude, crude, and bossy. A regular rich-bitch wannabe. She talked down to many, her 'friends' included, but when confronted by her own inabilities, she would run with her tail between her legs. She was even horrid to her mother, the only person who was kind enough to give her a home. Naturally, this knowledge was brought to me by the increasing way I obsessed, bringing me to, more or less, stalk my victim so I would know exactly where, when, how, and what to do. She truly reminds me of Naomi Misora. No. That isn't true. Quarter Queen looked like a kind, sweet angel next to Naomi Misora. I'm getting ahead of myself. To truly understand the reasoning for this murder I will have to backtrack to before the murder then jump to the murder.

I apologize in advance.

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May 27, 2002.

Thirteen days before this I had begun 'stalking' Believe Bridesmaid. I had gathered all that I needed from from him and decided to move on to Quarter Queen. I had woken up early on this day, ready to finally end the agonizingly long, boring daily routine of the freelance writer to the lifestyle of the economically in debt thirteen year old girl.

I walked out the door and made my way to the college apartments on Third Avenue. By foot it only took 45 minutes, a reasonable time away. I would be able to sleep longer then I had with with Bridesmaid. I was walking past the apartment to make it seem like I was simply someone walking along the streets, when I heard one of the doors to one of the apartments slam with an alarmingly loud bang. My head snapped to the side to spot my second victim, Quarter Queen.

She stomped onto the sidewalk before tearing off her black rimmed glasses and throwing them into the street for their timely demise of a passing car. I stared at her, wondering what those poor, poor glasses ever did to her. I had only seen this girl once in passing on the faithful day I had chosen her, but back then she seemed timid. That was not an act of a timid girl.

She jolted her head toward me, blinded eyes glaring just past my shoulder. "What do _you_want, you perv?" I let out a low growl, inaudible to the Quarter Queens hearing. I was _not_ a pervert, I was a murderer. There is a very _distinct _difference, unless you were so _demented_ as to rape the dead corpse. Would that even be considered rape? They can't very well say 'no', but it would be against their will. Or would it? They _are _dead after all. They have no say, no will. Although I doubt if you murder a person they would want you to screw their corpse. I suppose you could always ask _before_ you kill them but, really, who would say yes to a question like that?

I'm getting of topic again.

I was about to retort to the rather insulting comment when she wrinkled her nose and scoffed. "Not only a pervert but the worst dressing person on Earth." I stared, mouth dropped at the rude words. She scoffed again and pushed past me, almost forcing me into the road. Shocked, I instinctively followed her with my eyes. She looked back at my calm yet slight appalled composer and scowled before lifting her middle finger and sticking her saliva ridden tongue out at me.

That was the _largest _mistake she had ever made in her barely teenage life.

Days had passed since out first 'meeting' and within my 'stalking' I had grown more and more annoyed with this ugly, demented, rude child. Within the week that I had properly hidden myself she had greatly insulted 231 people once if not more, not including me the substitute custodian, she had talked back to _every_teacher, and slammed her hand down on another child's lunch tray, making it spew all over the defenseless child. Although these offenses were made she remained unpunished. All because of her financial disability.

This made sick. _She _made me sick.

I would have given up on this girl and found another person with the initials Q.Q., a less sinister one at that, but then a thought crossed my mind. What if no one cared? What if, by killing this one girl, I save millions of people from the abuse she gives to others? I would be doing society, no human race, a favor for killing this Hydra of Horrors. My actions could have a wondrous affect on people. With that thought in mind, I proceed my to follow my tiny subject, he malevolent actions motivating mine. Now that I think back and compare it to Kira, I do believe the same concept was captured by him. He was trying to make the world better.

Damn him for being right, the world _could _live without pyscophathic masterminds like myself.

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Finally, August 4th came about. I was, for lack of a better word, giddy, though I had never been giddy before I assumed this was it, or at least some form of the term. I threw the covers off myself and practically _bounded_ off the mattress and out the door. I was in such a mood that I actually _ran _the way to the apartment complex, taking on 20 minutes instead of the original 45. As I walked the steps to her apartment, I smiled.

I laid the bag I brought, filled with sleeping pills and a long, metal pipe, next to door frame and knocked on the door loudly. At four in the morning she would have been asleep and acknowledging this fact I patiently waited outside for the young girl to open the door. 1 minute. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. I began to pound on the door. 1 minute. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. I began banging on the door. 1 min-

She opened the door.

She looked like hell. He cropped hair looked as if imitating Albert Einstein's, her pajama's, if you can honestly call belly shirts and baggy skank shorts pajamas, were twisted around her figure, or lack there of. She looked up me, her sleep deprived eyes laced with annoyance. "Who are you? Have we met? You look familiar..." I smiled at her brightly. Her eyes widened with realization of my identity. She snapped her fingers together and pointed said finger at me, mouth agape. "You're that perv from, like forever ago!"

Suddenly, her eyes became nervous and she began to recoil away from me and into the safety of her home. I took a step toward her and she attempted to slam the door in my face, her eyes wide with terror. Before she could fully close the door I thrusted my leg in between the door and it's frame. She squeaked and and pushed against the door with all her might. I winced at the pain that erupted in my leg.

Finally, I got fed up. I pushed open the door, forcing the young girl backward. She gasped and attempted to run out the door, not the smartest move someone can make. I grabbed her arm and pushed her onto the couch. Her eyes widened and she scrunched herself against the other side of the couch, the tiny throw pillow acting as her shield from me. I rolled my eyes and started toward her, bag in hand. I laid it next to the couch and the girl burst into hysterical, over-dramatic tears. "P-please...don't rape me! I know I'm hot and all but please I'm only thirteen!!" I could barely make out what she was saying through her sobs, but I did.

I threw up a little in my mouth at what she had said.

I grabbed the pills and and poured six into my hand. She looked at me, wide-eyed with terror. "W-wait...no...please! don't do this! I promise I'll do what you want! I wont resist or anything!" I rolled my eyes and walked toward her. She would have screamed out if I hadn't slammed my hand to her mouth, forcing her to stop talking and take the pills. Her mouth drooped and her eyes closed. I smiled, satisfied with shutting her up and grabbed the bat. I started by taking out her eyes and crushing them so they wouldn't get in the way. Then, the real fun began. I started beating the hell out of her, there was no mecy in what I was doing only because I knew that whore was still slightly alive.

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I don't believe anyone reading this would ever be able to understand the trouble and tribulation of having to clean that disgusting place. I had to wipe it of finger prints and blood but not move anything. It was much more work then I wanted to put forth. But I did so anyway. I set up all that needed to be set up for the hint and locked door to the murder and left the house at around five in the evening, very happily. Two murders done, two more to go.

I only wish I could have predicted what happened in the next murder.

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Finally this thing is done! I hope you like it! =3 Read and Review!


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